“Who dares intrude on our realm?” The heavily accented voice boomed across the cavern, reflecting off the stone walls and continuing on, leaving basso echos in its wake.
I twisted in the saddle, looking back at the lava pool. The thing that had shouted at us stood in the magma as if it were of no more concern than a man standing in water while wearing waders. He was gigantic—hulking height and gargantuan girth—skinned in the blackest of black cut with highlights of reflected orange light from the molten rock he stood in. Horns curled upwards from his skull, and his eyes glowed red.
Fire demon? Here?
He opened his mouth, and, behind his savage onyx teeth, it glowed as if he’d swallowed live coals. “You will die for disturbing us,” he said as if it meant nothing to him. His accent was so thick it took a moment to understand his words. The magma continued to boil in the pool around and more fire demons surfaced, flinging bits of molten rock like kids shaking water from their hair. The lead demon’s gaze tracked across our party and settled on Farmathr. “Ah, the recalcitrant bondsman. Where are you running to, bondsman?”
Farmathr had not turned but was racing toward the lava tube, head low over his horse’s neck. “Come!” he shouted, waving his arm behind him without turning.
I looked at Meuhlnir, whose face was ashen and austere. His gaze snapped to mine, then drifted to Sig. “Ride!” I yelled and kicked Slaypnir’s flanks. We charged into the tunnel after Farmathr, galloping hard, and the fire demons pursued us, shrieking. Farmathr charged down the tunnel, out-pacing us with ease, neither burdened by carrying gear nor leading pack-animals as we were. “Farmathr! Wait for us!”
He glanced over his shoulder, fear etched on his face but did not slow.
“Farmathr!” I yelled.
“Farmathr!” mocked the fire demon behind us. He was huge, almost scraping his horns on the roof of the lava tube. Despite his size and strength, though, he was slow.
Our guide veered to the right at a fork and disappeared from view. “We’ve got to hurry. If he gets too far ahead, we’ll lose him.”
“Ride ahead, Hank. You and your family.” Meuhlnir fell back to help with the slower pack-horses.
“No, we stay together.”
“If we stretch out our line, sending the faster horses on ahead, we can keep each other in view, and you can keep Farmathr in view.”
I didn’t like it, but it made sense. We kicked our mounts and leaned over their necks and reached the fork in time to glimpse Farmathr riding hard, not looking back to see if we were in tow. “Farmathr!” I yelled.
“He can’t hear you,” said Yowtgayrr. “Panic has deafened his ears.”
“And when we catch him, I will clean his ears for him,” growled Althyof.
He led us on a merry chase through the labyrinthine tunnels and chambers of the lava tube system. When we caught him, he sat atop his horse, breathing hard, his horse turned sidewise so he could watch us approach.
The cavern he had chosen to stop in was egg-shaped, with a vicious tear in the floor through its center. A narrow bridge spanned the chasm, and Farmathr waited on the far side.
“Come over one at a time!” he shouted.
I walked Slaypnir forward so I could gaze over the edge into the depths of the fissure. Thirty yards below, sharp, fang-shaped stalagmites rose from the bottom. Anyone who fell into that ditch would never climb back out.
Althyof returned to the entrance of the cavern and waved to the others. “Come quick!” he shouted. Beyond the others, the fire demons roared and pounded down the tunnel after them.
“Come quick, Hank!” snapped Farmathr. “You must come now!”
I eyed the narrow bridge, and the stone looked solid enough, but something about his manner or expression gave me pause.
He waved at me, face burning with impatience. “Come!” His eyes darted over my shoulder, at Althyof, then cut to Yowtgayrr. When his gaze returned to mine, there was something foreign in it—reptilian. His face settled in a sneer. “More distrust?” he snapped.
“I’ll go first,” said Yowtgayrr.
“No! It must be Hank! He is the important one.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not more important than my friends, my family. I won’t place my safety in front of anyone else’s.”
“You risk them with this delay! If another steps foot on the bridge before you do, Hank Jensen, I will leave you to your fate.” Farmathr’s gaze drifted to Jane, and something in his expression softened. When his eyes slid to the face of my son, Farmathr’s expression twisted with strong emotion. “Mark!” he cried.
“Okay, Farmathr, but you will wait for everyone to cross before leaving this cavern.”
Farmathr’s gaze strayed to the only exit on his side of the chasm separating us, and I walked Slaypnir to the foot of the bridge. His head snapped back, eyes flitting from Jane to Sig and then to meet my gaze. Without warning, he gave his horse a kick and barreled across the bridge at me. “No! Stay back!”
Slaypnir snorted and danced to the side, ears back.
“What is this, Farmathr?” snapped Althyof.
“It’s a trap! Meant to separate Hank from the rest of you, to leave you at the mercy of the fire demons, while I lead Hank on and into the Herperty af Roostum.”
“But…why?” asked Jane. “Why would you do this?”
“Vowli…no, she commands it. I’m powerless to resist her. She…she…she—”
“Traitor!” screamed Althyof, ripping his daggers out of his belt.
I held up my hand, demanding—no, commanding—the Tverkr to hold. “Are we already at her mercy?”
Farmathr glanced at me—a quick twitch of the eyes and away again. “No. Because of your demand that we travel to the exit closest to these tubes, she doesn’t expect us yet.”
“How do we deal with the fire demons?”
Farmathr’s shoulders rose and fell. “I’m…I’m sorry! I don’t—”
“Give me leave, Hank,” growled Althyof.
“No. Put the daggers away, Althyof. We need Farmathr to get out of this…unless you know the route through these tunnels.”
Althyof slammed his daggers into his sheaths, grimacing as though forced to swallow something foul. “Be quick! The demons come.”
“How do we bypass the trap in the bridge?”
Farmathr wouldn’t look at me—at any of us. His eyes lingered on his saddle, reins clutched loosely in one hand. “You should let him kill me,” he murmured. “I’m…I’m evil.”
I guided Slaypnir to his side and grabbed him by the bicep, giving him a firm shake. “How do we get past the trap? Tell me!”
He let loose with a long, shuddering sigh. “You and I have to remain on this side until everyone else has passed. After that, we cross, and when the next living thing sets foot on the bridge, it will collapse.”
Rage exploded inside me. “So…you would lead me across, knowing the bridge would collapse under my wife or son?” I shouted, standing in my stirrups.
“No! I didn’t know who would cross next, but I assumed it would be Yowtgayrr, and—”
I hit him, a vicious straight punch with all my upper body strength behind it. The sound of it echoed through the chamber, while the pain in my knuckles, wrist, and elbow screamed.
Farmathr’s hand rested on his cheek. “I deserve that…that, and so much more.”
“Later!” I snapped. “Skowvithr, you cross first, Jane and Sig next. Althyof, you next.”
The others in the party crammed into the chamber looking harried. “Cross over the bridge,” I said. “One by one.”
“Hank, we need to hurry,” said Meuhlnir. “Pass over the bridge.”
“No time to explain, but I’ll be crossing with Farmathr. Last.” Meuhlnir gave Farmathr a cold glance but walked his horse toward the narrow bridge with everyone else. “When you get across, weave a glamor. Magma filling the chasm.”
“Fine. I assume this will be explained at a future time?”
Fa
rmathr hung his head, and I nodded.
I watched the others filing past, not allowing myself to glance at Farmathr, anger still boiling in my veins. The desire to hit him again—fifty or sixty times—pounded in my blood like lust. When everyone was across, I nodded at Meuhlnir.
“Mint af hrurni,” he uttered, and boiling magma appeared to fill the chasm.
I glared at Farmathr. “You cross in front of me.” He nodded and started to cross the bridge. “And don’t give me any more cause to doubt you.” I rested my hand on Kunknir’s grip.
As soon as we got across, the fire demons reached the door to the chamber. They screeched and roared with rage, and the quickest among them raced forward, out onto the bridge.
A sound analogous to thunder reverberated through the chamber, followed by a terrific crack and a pop. The fire demons on the narrow bridge froze for a moment and then shrieked as the stone dropped from under their feet.
“Everyone out!” I shouted, and turned Slaypnir sideways, mirroring the way Farmathr had waited for us. I pointed at the big fire demon who had come out of the magma pool first. “Come get me!”
The big demon glared at me before squinting at the image of boiling magma. A slow smile spread across his gash of a mouth. “I will come get you, and together we will go down into the molten stone.”
“Sounds like fun,” I snapped.
The demon roared, and, in one big mass, the remaining demons charged at the chasm and leapt into the air. A smile stretched across my lips as they fell through Meuhlnir’s glamor and into the chasm. I turned Slaypnir toward the exit and walked him through it.
Fifty-three
We rode to the next chamber, one thankfully free of chasms, bridges, or lava pools. My anger had shrunk into a dull, aching roar behind my forehead. We dismounted, and this time, so did Farmathr. I no longer had the urge to smash my knuckles on his cheekbone, but I kept a distinct distance between us nonetheless.
“Now, tell us what this is all about,” said Meuhlnir.
“I have been…” started Farmathr.
“The bastard’s been working for the Dark Queen all the while,” snapped Althyof. “That last chamber was a trap. He was to lead Hank across, and the bridge would collapse under the next one to step foot on it.”
Veethar turned on Farmathr, eyes burning yellow, rage dancing on his face. “The act of a coward.”
Farmathr nodded. “I can’t dispute that.”
“Only one thing to do,” growled Mothi. Farmathr jumped at the sound Mothi’s axe made coming out of its scabbard.
“No,” I said, trying to sound confident, calm. “We still need him to get into the Herperty af Roostum.”
“Hank, there must be another—”
“Yeah? What is this other way? Do you know the way out of here? Do any of you?” I looked from face to face, seeing anger at Farmathr, but also frustration at the neat way we were forced to keep him with us.
“How do we know this isn’t part of the plan? To lull us with the false admission of a trap?”
“I’m not—” began our erstwhile guide.
“You shut up,” growled Veethar.
“We can never know with the Dark Queen,” I said. “We thought we were so clever, hiding in a caravan, trekking through the Great Forest of Suel. You were waiting for us, weren’t you?”
Farmathr nodded.
“And the Black Queen knew we’d be coming that way?”
“She planned your route.”
“What does that mean?” snapped Mothi.
“The dragons of the sea to keep you from sailing south to Kleymtlant. The tretyidnfukl to make you try to outwit her, to keep you from taking the pass, and maybe skirting the Great Forest. Once you were within its bounds, she could use the spiders to drive you.”
“And use Ivalti’s army to drive us closer to the mountains?”
“Yes,” said Farmathr. “The army kept you from seeking the port, or from riding up the coast. Ivalti almost ruined it with his antics, but it worked out in the end.”
“And why make us exit the travel network early?” asked Meuhlnir.
“Queen Hel—”
“Do not use that name in my presence,” snapped Freya, taking one menacing step toward him.
“Uh, the Dark Queen hoped that the…uh, wildlife would... She hoped that… She laid traps…”
“She hoped some of us would perish,” scoffed Meuhlnir. “Skirting it doesn’t make your culpability any less.”
“I don’t… That is, I’m not trying to lessen my culpability in this.”
“Could have fooled me,” muttered Althyof.
“So now, we are off the bitch’s script?” demanded Jane. “She has no idea where we are?”
Farmathr’s gaze fell to the floor. “I’m not sure.”
Althyof made a choking noise, one hand gripping a dagger hilt until his tendons creaked with the strain.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Out with it, Farmathr.”
He locked eyes with me. “Can you… Can you call me John, please? John Calvin Black. That is my true name. What my mother and father named me.”
“Fine. Whatever you want. Tell us.”
“I don’t…I can’t say for sure.” His eyes stole toward Freya without quite getting to her face. “The Dark Queen once said in my hearing that she always knows where her little sister is, anywhere on the face of Osgarthr.”
All eyes turned to Freya, who blushed a deep crimson. “She never mentioned this to me.”
Pratyi shrugged and wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She lies. We all know this. The Dark Queen lies as much as she speaks.”
“Even if she’s not lying about that, she never told me. I didn’t do anything,” said Freya.
“No, dear,” said Meuhlnir. “You are not to blame.”
“If she knows where Freya is, does she perceive who she’s with?” I asked.
Farmathr—John—turned his palms up and shook his head.
“The extent of your knowledge is that she claims to know where Freya is.” He nodded. “Nothing else? Nothing you’ve…forgotten?”
“I don’t want to be this way,” John muttered. “I have been shaped this way.”
Jane scoffed. “And what does that mean? You were born evil? That’s a load of—”
“You misunderstand me. I was…remade in Vowli’s image.”
I failed to suppress a sigh. “You’d better explain.”
“When they… I first met the Dark Queen, Vowli, and Luka in Mithgarthr…in New York, near my home. One of them—either Vowli or Luka, I never learned which—began hunting in the woods near my village. I was friendly with the local Onondowaga village, and with their help, we tracked the beast. That’s when the horror started because they seemed to view it as an invitation to—”
“Is there an end to this fairy tale?” demanded Althyof.
“I promise you—this is no mere tale.”
“Make it a short telling.”
“Fine. The three had adopted the role of ancient deities in the Onondowaga legends: Awenhai, or Skywoman, and the twins, Otentonnia and Tawiskaron. According to the legends, the three had haunted the area for hundreds of years, stalking, killing, and eating the Onondowaga.”
“This is short?” grumbled Althyof.
“When we decided we had to fight them, we, the militia of the white village and the braves of the Onondowaga village, set out to find them. They tricked us and attacked my village while we searched for them half a day’s ride to the west. They kidnapped my sister-in-law and my nephew.” He swallowed convulsively and glanced at Sig. “Mark was his name. They killed my brother—” His voice cracked, and he ducked his head. “I had to make a pact to save my nephew and my greatest friend. I… I had to eat the flesh of a dead warrior, so the Dark Queen would heal my friend and release my nephew.”
“Itla sem Yetur.” I murmured. “Briethralak Oolfur.”
“How far has it gone?” demanded Meuhlnir.
&nbs
p; John shook his head. “I resisted…for a long time. I…I refused to eat. I killed myself countless times, but Vowli…he’s mastered life and death, and every time, he brought me back from the dead. He called me Owtroolekur—unbeliever—and imprisoned me in the dungeon beneath Helhaym.”
“That was you? How can that be?”
John gazed at me with sad eyes. “Yes. You saw the beginning of my true fall from grace.”
I gasped, fear and disgust swirling in my guts. “Edla?”
He nodded, sad-eyed and grim-faced. “She wasn’t there to serve me food. She was there to serve as food.”
“You ate her?” demanded Jane.
“You must understand that—”
“No. I don’t have to understand anything.” Her eyes blazed, and her hand drifted to the head of her business axe hanging in her belt.
“They would not allow me to… I couldn’t…” John shook his head, sadness and regret written in every line of his expression.
“How can this be? I dreamed about this mere days ago. You were already with us!”
“Dreams are not bound by time and place, Hank,” murmured Frikka.
I shook my head. “How long ago?”
John raised his shoulders and let them fall. “I only wish I knew. Calendars and years lose their importance when life stretches on and on.”
“But a long time?”
“Oh, yes. And once I…fell in line, they had things for me to do. Tasks to further the cause.”
“Such as?” demanded Veethar.
John glanced at him and away again. “They kept me in Fankelsi at first, tending to the local population, managing the karls. After that, they sent me to this continent. A people live far to the north. Malformed people. The Dark Queen wanted them as subjects. She sent me to subjugate them, though in practice all I had to do was offer them a way to survive—to thrive—in the sparse conditions in which they live. I brought them the knowledge of—”
Blood of the Isir Omnibus Page 86